


Pivot (The Times They Are Changing)

by Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, characters and tags to be updated as stories/chapters added, etc - Freeform, some may look at alternatives to canonical deaths, some will be happy, some will be sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 04:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch/pseuds/Imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch
Summary: Various moments in the story that could have gone differently.1. Thalia, Luke and Annabeth race to camp





	Pivot (The Times They Are Changing)

The rain lashed down, fast and heavy making the ground slippery. Autumn leaves may be pretty to look at, but they were hades under foot. Annabeth was struggling, Thalia was tiring. Grover kept urging them to move faster, to hurry up. He was more sure than they were and he kept rushing ahead only to realise they weren't behind him anymore and scurrying back to urge them once more to just go that little bit quicker.

He was nervous, and jittery. It didn't do much to help the general mood.

And behind them the thudding paws of the hell hounds, the shrieked taunts of the furies they'd long since tuned out. The heavy beating of the furies' leathery wings was barely perceptible over the rain and the howling of the wind and the dogs, but for some reason it unnerved him more than everything else combined. Death from above.

Annabeth slipped, but he managed to catch her arm and haul her upright, putting her back on her feet slightly less gently than he'd meant to in his hurry and against the stab of fear. Thalia's face was rain streaked, muddy and grim. She met his eyes, forced him to meet her gaze. _We're not all going to make it_ was written all over her face. He knew she was right, but he didn't want to face that prospect. He turned away. He was good at lying to himself.

They ran on. Dodging trees, tripping on tree roots and slipping on the muddy ground. Their feet beat in a rhythm that was only slightly quicker than the pursuit behind them. The things behind them were getting into their stride, the three of them were getting slower. In truth they were all ready to collapse miles and hours ago, but fear kept them pushing on.

The cyclops had been an unexpected horror. The fear in Thalia's voice - in the cyclops voice - had hit him like a physical blow and he'd been struck dead still. And then when he could finally move again he'd run faster than he'd ever run before, without stopping, without thinking. And without Annabeth he'd still be in that cave and he'd be dead, Grover would be dead. Thalia would be dead.

Annabeth was braver than he'd been at seven. But she was too small. If the monsters caught up -

He glanced at Thalia. Understanding passed between them.

"I'll hold them back," she said.

"Not a chance."

"I'm a big girl," she snapped. "I can handle them."

Luke didn't believe that. He didn't believe he could either, but rather him than Thalia.

"You need to get Annabeth up the hill," Luke said.

Annabeth who was looking between the two of them, eyes wide but a faint scowl forming on her face as she worked out what the two were really saying. She was smart, way too smart.

"We can all make it!" she protested, but she stumbled again. Thalia grabbed hold of her hand.

"We will," she agreed. She didn't - couldn't - sound very convincing.

"It's me they want," Thalia pointed out.

"So let's not make it easier for them by handing you over on a plate!"

"Keep running!" Grover yelped ahead of them by about fifty feet and hopping up and down in agitation.

"They are right behind you!"

Running and talking was difficult when the terrain was so treacherous, and they barely had the breath to keep them going forward: their pace had slowed without realising.

The footsteps were closer. Jaws snapped and they were too near, the sounds of clashing teeth made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Thalia caught his eye once more. Her lips were pursed. Stubborn to the end. But he was too, and she had Annabeth.

He dropped back, turned to face the oncoming hoard.

Annabeth yelped, turning back, legs skating all over the place.

"Luke!"

He heard her fall again, heard her yelp of pain. He closed his eyes as the sound hit him, another blow, and silently begged Thalia to get her up the hill. 

The dogs were, well, monstrous. Far bigger than ordinary dogs, all bulky muscle and burning eyes. Their jaws snapped, drool dangled from powerful jaws. And up above the three furies, their wings still beating quick as his heart, their raised claws sharp and deadly.

Luke swallowed.

There were so many. And he had nothing but a sword.

But he didn't have to hold them back indefinitely, just long enough for Thalia and Annabeth to get up the hill and then he could run.

They were almost upon him. He could smell wet dog, a surprisingly normal smell for such horrible beasts.

He risked a quick glance behind him. Thalia was halfway up, carrying Annabeth who was screaming, crying, clawing at Thalia's clothes. He couldn't see Thalia's expression. That was probably for the best.

Luke raised his sword.


End file.
